


Smothered, Diced, and Peppered

by Bluebluebaby



Category: Jane the Virgin (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-05-23 01:53:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6100957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluebluebaby/pseuds/Bluebluebaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill-in-the-blanks for s2, starting with Chapter 34. Lu and Su, falling in love and overcoming their (heavy, seriously, so heavy) baggage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I think I might be the captain of this ship? Thought about making this a one-shot, but I think I'm going to try and do one or two chapters per episode until the writers do something to muck things up and I have to go AU :) 
> 
> Hit me up on tumblr @blueblue-baby for prompts/headcanons/talking about Megan Ketch's face/talking about Yara Martinez's face

Susanna Barnett, like many lesbians, avoided dumping significant others at all costs. In kindergarten, she literally hid from Tommy Walters until he started holding hands with Carrie Brown. More recently, she had arranged undercover ops or shift changes to make a lackluster relationship fizzle organically with little-to-no effort on her part.

But she _really_ , really liked Luisa, and she knew that if she didn't create some space, this delightful mutual distraction would never grow into a real relationship. She was at Luisa’s door to SHUT IT DOWN (as she had pep-talked herself on the drive over here), but she couldn't prevent the smile that blossomed on her face when Luisa answered. And lordhavemercy, it took every ounce of willpower to pull away when Luisa started doing that _thing_ with her mouth on her neck (always just enough teeth, never any marks, _why was she stopping this again?_ ). But she did it. And she said exactly what she planned without getting sidetracked. She was pretty proud of herself, actually, underneath the sobs that overtook her in the parking lot.

-

Susanna thought about going to a bar, but she remembered Luisa (well, she hadn't stopped thinking of her), and couldn't bring herself to be subconsciously inconsiderate. So she hopped in the unmarked squad car, and headed for Ft. Lauderdale.

When she arrived at the Waffle House, she checked her phone. Nothing.  
_Like she's thinking of you right now._

On her way back to the farthest booth, she jammed a dollar in the jukebox so she could share her heartbreak with the other sad sacks who were here at 10:45 on a Tuesday night.

 **“Lost Highway.”**  
**“Two Cigarettes in an Ashtray.”**  
**“I Will Always Love You”** (the Dolly Parton version, _areyoufuckingkiddingme?)_

And **“Give My Love to Rose,”** barking out a laugh as she pressed _play_.

The waitress was quick with the coffee refills and slow to make conversation (she left a handsome tip- no sense in taking her bitterness out on innocent bystanders). Susanna managed to give her order, “Smothered, Diced, and Peppered” without her voice breaking.

The _**How to Hide a Body**_ special she had joked, when explaining the secret language of the Southern breakfast institution to Luisa. They had been making plans for a world where they could feel safe, where you had breakfast at midnight out of a sense of spontaneity, not because you hadn't eaten in 14 hours because you were trying to track two druglords across the Atlantic Ocean.

Susanna smelled her food more than ate it, and eventually gave up on the whole enterprise and headed back to her empty Miami apartment. She fell into a fitful sleep to the deafening silence of _no missed calls; no unread messages_.

-

  
It was another two days before she from Luisa, and then, only by text.

**Luisa Alver (10:18 PM)**  
_I am so sorry about the other night. And I know we should talk in person, or at least over the phone, but everytime I see you I just want to touch you._

(Still shameless as ever, it seemed)

**Luisa Alver (10:19 PM)**  
_But that's not the point. The point is that you leaving gave me the time to think, and I realized that even though I've remained sober for almost a year, I replaced my addiction. Rose was as damaging to my life as alcohol, and I let her get in the way of everything that's important to me._

She saw the “typing icon” but didn't want Luisa to think she was shouting into the void.

**Susanna Barnett (10:20 PM)**  
_Thank you for sharing all this with me_

(Susanna sucked at heavy conversations, for the record)

 **Luisa Alver (10:45 PM** )  
_There is so much more to say, and to apologize for.. But for now, I could really use a friend, somebody to be on my side. I have a lot of stuff to try and fix._

**Susanna Barnett (10:46 PM)**  
_I never stopped being on your side._

(A little too melodramatic, but she had already pressed _send_ ).

 **Susanna Barnett (10:50 PM** )  
_I don't work Sunday- maybe we could start the day with breakfast before you make the rounds?_

 **Luisa Alver (10:52 PM)**  
_I would really appreciate that. Good night, Detective_.

Nice boundaries, Luisa. Still stung like hell, though.

-

  
Naturally, the next day is when tech finally cracks the microchip and Cordero’s _**LUISA ALVER AS HUMAN BAIT, PT 2**_ plan goes into motion. She wants to say “ _slow down! She's not emotionally ready_!” Or “ _Are you 100% sure we can protect her? ONE HUNDRED PERCENT_ _SURE_ ”

But she knows:  
**a** ) that would totally show her hand on the whole sleeping with witnesses thing  
and  
**b** )this investigation is bigger than all of them.

Luisa knows that, and she will cooperate, because she is a good person who is beating herself up for already choosing Rose over her family once. She won't let it happen again.

Susanna lets Cordero contact Luisa and arrange everything in secret- they haven't spoken since their texts and she doesn't want to enmesh her feelings in this case any more than they already are. She does volunteer to be the plant in the hospital room, because:

 **1** )her mother is a nurse, so she can pull off the act, however brief  
**2** )Luisa trusts her, _she's on her side_ , and  
**3** )She wants to, _needs_ to see Rose in person (needs to slay the dragon that convinced Luisa that love was worth a dead father, a kidnapped nephew, and a busted kneecap).

(Susanna has a bit of a savior complex. It's something she'll work out in therapy if she makes it through all this with an intact brainstem. )

-

  
Breakfast on Sunday is heavy, nutritionally and emotionally. Luisa's time frame has been squashed considerably, leaving her about two hours to make amends to Rafael before her “accident.” She chews her food, slowly, thoughtfully, as if keeping her mouth full will permit her not to talk.

“You're doing the right thing. In all of this, I mean,” Susanna comforts her.

Luisa just nods, pensive.

“I'll be there the whole time- we will protect you.”

Luisa doesn't know whether she's more scared of Raf or Rose. She knows she's most scared of herself.

-

  
Susanna wants to go in the room with Luisa, or at least wait outside the door, and collect her in her arms when she comes out, but they've mutually agreed to part ways in the hallway. Luisa, because she needs to do this on her own; Susanna because she needs to clear her head before the riskiest operation of her career.

She practices deep ashram breaths, as she heads over to the hospital for her shift.

(Of _course_ , Luisa is the only thing that can calm her right now.)

-

  
Tyler was born the summer after Susanna’s freshman year in high school; her mother's _miracle baby_ (that's what they call “accidents” in Alabama). He _was_ a miracle- Tyler Dylan, the golden boy, so enamored Susanna’s stepfather that he scarcely had time to criticize her existence until she graduated and moved away.

When Susanna came out, her mother gave her husband 2 years to come around (“ _he loves the church, Susie, but he also loves his family”_ ). When he continued to insist that Susanna was going straight to hell and forced her mother to communicate with her in secret, Mama divorced him and followed her dreams and her conscience straight to Vanderbilt Hospital. She got a job in the preemie ward, to help all the other _miracle babies_.

Tyler has never once blamed her for his parents’ divorce, and she _adores_ him for that. When she graduated from the Academy, she came to his 2nd grade class in uniform and he acted like she was a superhero (she felt like one, honestly). He texted her for girl advice before his 8th grade formal (“ _girls love it when you listen to them. Remember what she says and you will be a million miles ahead of your peers”)._ He looks like every other high school quarterback in Tennessee, but he calls out his teammates on their gay slurs and cooks his mother dinner when she has a bad shift. He is a _great_ fucking kid.

So when Rose puts a finger to her ear and describes her mother’s home, she knows she is about to have her first hostage experience.

(Later, when the Metropolitan Nashville PD have cleared the scene, and Susanna's wound is dressed, and her family is safely in a hotel for the immediate future, Tyler’s newly-minted bass quips, _“she must be some girl, Susie. Hot damn!”_ Susanna laugh-cries so hard she hiccups.)

-

  
Susanna knows it's an unevolved and inappropriate response, but when Luisa rushes from Rose’s body to examine her shoulder, saying,“ohmygod are you okay! I was so worried,” a brightness blooms within her chest. It's quickly extinguished by the pain from the bullet wound, however.

“Hurts like a motherfucker, but it's a through-and-through. I'll be fine.”

“I want to see for myself. Doctor, remember?”

(Of course she remembers. She remembers everything about Luisa. And also, photographic memory.)

She is so careful, and focused, and tender, while examining the wound, that the pain dissipates momentarily.

“It looks good, but I'll be keeping an eye on-”

Luisa can't even finish the sentence before her face falls and the tears come.

All Susanna can do is reach out with her non-dominant hand, and let her cry.

 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luisa loses it, Susanna goes to therapy, and our leading ladies are extremely star-crossed at the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to post a little follow up before Monday, it will probably be a hot minute for me to write something for chapter 35 (gal pal is returning home after being away for a month, so my heart feelings will be going towards real people instead of fictional characters for a lil bit). In my head, it will take Su and Lu a good while to work through all the shit they need to before they can really be together. I know that the show is a telenovela, though, so their interpretation of events might be very different than mine!

Luisa had gone from crying to wailing uncontrollably, and the hospital staff had ended up sedating her, in an act of mercy. They'd also given Susanna a dose of fentanyl while the Triage nurse inspected her wound. Before they carted her off to x-ray (and hopefully not surgery), Susanna had ensured that the most compassionate uniformed officer was with Luisa, an eager young kid named Lopez who always stayed with child witnesses. She gave him Rafael’s number, and prayed that he would step up and be the support his sister needed right now. As the nurse wheeled Susanna away, she stole one last glance over her shoulder at Luisa. She looked like a zombie; her tear-streaked face now completely expressionless, devoid of any feeling at all.  
_

The hospital was a blur of pain and numbness; she could hardly focus on anything the doctors told her, but she gathered that the impact of the bullet had fucked up her arm pretty badly, and she could look forward to several weeks in a splint, along with physical therapy to repair the damaged muscle tissue. Time would tell on nerve damage. She might have to follow the Mutter case from behind a desk.

_(Worse, Luisa might never forgive her. )_

After they splinted her arm she was quickly discharged (modern healthcare was a wonder of efficiency). Cordero was long gone, he had bolted the moment they pronounced Rose dead. Lopez lingered, and rushed to meet Susanna as she entered the lobby.

“How's Luisa?”

  
“Ms. Alver? They doped her up pretty good, but her brother came to get her, he promised he would stay with her tonight and then bring her to the station tomorrow to finish the report.”

She hoped Lopez’s calming presence had done something to lessen the tension between the Solano siblings.

Lopez offered to drive her to the station, since he had to head back that way. Susanna decided to go ahead and give her statement while everything was still fresh and she was still alert from adrenaline. Armstrong had already taken her gun, and she suspected she would be spending much of her recovery on administrative leave. Better to bite the proverbial bullet and get it over with.  
_

When Susanna finally headed out of the station, it was early morning. Even at seven am, the Miami sun burned down mercilessly on her fair skin (she had probably spent half her paycheck on sunscreen since the move). She had always had a love-hate relationship with the sun, spending several summers slathered in Aloe and sentenced to long sleeves and a wide-brimmed hat after too many days at the river without reapplying her _Water Babies_. In her wallet, she still keeps the last photo taken of her with her father, from a family vacation to Pensacola Beach. Susanna stoops by her sand castle while her father stands behind, pale chest in stark contrast to the dark tan of his forearms.

(No one has a farmer’s tan in Miami.)

She had thought Pensacola was the most magical place in the world, with its white sands and Blue Angels. Her father had smiled and swung her up in the air, and let her ride on his shoulders as they walked through the surf. He kissed mama like no one was watching, and bought them all double-dipped ice cream cones. It had felt like they had reached their happy ending.

He was gone, for good, two months later.

(Susanna knows she could probably use her badge to find him, to find out what happened to him, at least, but maybe some stories weren't made to have an ending.)

She thinks of her family know, how she wouldn't have Tyler if her mother hadn't married that hateful man after her father left. Thinks of how, even when the worst things you could never imagine happen, love still grows in unexpected places. She shoots off a quick text to her brother as she arrives home.

_Tell mama I love her. I am so, so, sorry for all of this. you two mean the world to me and it would kill me if anything happened to you. Please keep me updated?_

She hopes the lack of response means they're getting some much-needed sleep.

_

Once home, Susanna pops another pain pill and promptly passes out on her couch, the sheer exhaustion of being awake for twenty-six traumatic hours catching up with her.

She dreams of her father, and glowing fish.

When she wakes, for a blissful moment, it is as if the previous day had never happened. She thinks about heading to work, and then pain racks her right side as she sits up from her cramped fetal position. She's slept fourteen hours, and the medication is completely worn off. She feels nauseated, and has to take a moment to recalibrate before she can check her phone.

Messages from her mother and Tyler, assuring her they are physically fine and asking about her injury.

A voicemail from Armstrong reminding her to set up an appointment with the department Psychiatrist. Standard protocol for officer-involved shootings.

3 missed calls from Luisa, 6 messages.

 **_Luisa Alver 4:03 PM_ **  
_This is all my fault_

 **_Luisa Alver 4:10 PM_ **  
_I am sorry for ever pulling you into this_

 **_Luisa Alver 4:11 PM_ **  
_Raf is staying with me, but completely ignoring me. I feel like I can't talk to anyone about what happened_

 **_Luisa Alver 4:13 PM_ **  
_I went to the station to give my statement but they wouldn't tell me anything about you_

 **_Luisa Alver 4:15 PM_ **  
_Please tell me you're all right?_

 **_Luisa Alver 4:20 PM_ **  
_I just feel so lost_

Susanna knows if she listens to the voicemails she will lose the tenuous grip she has on stability. She can't be what Luisa needs right now, but she can't deal her another blow either. She spends twenty minutes crafting one message, trying to convey how much she cares and how much she _cannot, must not_ care about Luisa.

 **_Susanna Barnett 11:35 PM_ **  
_I am physically okay. Will be seeing dept shrink tomorrow. There are grief counsellors available through the department, I highly recommend you see one if you haven't yet._

She knows she sounds like a robot, but anything more than detached will destroy her.

 **_Susanna Barnett 11:40 PM_ **  
_None of this was your fault. Please know I don't blame you for anything._

 **_Susanna Barnett 11:55 PM_ **  
_I promise, we will talk eventually, but my hands are tied right now with the status of the investigation. I have to prioritize my family right now. I'm sorry_

Susanna falls asleep in another fuzzy haze, setting her alarm in an effort to return to normalcy in the morning.

_

  
Her phone is mercifully quiet in the morning- the rest of the world has continued to sleep at normal hours. Only one reply from Luisa:

 **_Luisa Alver 2:30 AM_ **  
_I understand. I won't bother you anymore._

She wants to say, “ _you could never be a bother._ ” Or “ _please. Be kind to yourself._ ” Or, “ _I would do anything for you._ ”

But her feelings for Luisa have quite literally destroyed her life, and while it's not Luisa's fault, she can't afford to be close to her anymore.  
_

Susanna isn't the type of cop to scoff at Psychiatrists and act like she doesn't need help. She had done undergraduate research on PTSD in law enforcement officers, and she knows her road to mental recovery will probably be longer and more difficult than healing her physical wounds.

That doesn't make it any easier to talk.

Dr. Schwann is in her mid-forties, and she resembles the love-child of Sigmund Freud and Judith Light. She listens patiently as Susanna gives her factual account of what happened, nodding and taking notes on her legal pad.

“How do you feel about your family’s safety being endangered like that?”

“Angry.” She feels her whole body tense.

“At _Sin Rostro_?”

“At myself.” She pauses, and she can tell Dr. Schwann is waiting for her to explicate.

“For letting my feelings compromise my job.”

“Your feelings for Ms. Alver?”

“Yes.” She isn't about to say anything more about their relationship than she has to.

“Could you tell me more about that?”

(Susanna can't exactly refuse, that would look worse than admitting everything. She opts to convey the gist without the details.)

“My partner, Detective Cordero, encouraged me to use Ms. Alver’s apparent infatuation with me to goad her for more information. I shared details of my personal history to encourage her to open up, and became emotionally invested in Ms. Alver to a greater degree than I would have otherwise.”

“Have you ever become attached to a witness before?”

“No ma'am. I did transfer out of K-9 when I was a rookie due to attachment issues. I reckon I like dogs better than people.”

Dr. Schwann gives her a tight half-smile.

“Why don't you tell me more about what you shared with Luisa?”

“We both had lost parents in childhood. We thought her mother was one of our suspects, but it turned out to be a red herring.”

“So Luisa is a kindred spirit?”

“You could say that.”

“And have you talked to her since the incident?”

“Nothing other than verifying that she was safe and being cared for.”

“You haven't processed the incident with her.”

“No- it feels like a violation of boundaries.”

Dr. Schwann takes more notes, not commenting on her sudden disinterest in Luisa.

“Detective Barnett, our time is almost up, but I would like to reiterate a few points for you. One, what you are experiencing is very normal for a police officer, even one with as sterling a record as yourself. You work with people every day, it would be more worrisome if you didn't become attached to a civilian at some point. Second, avoiding relationships can be a sign of post-traumatic stress; we’ll delve more into that next session, but I want you to be cognizant of how your reactions to others may relate to the trauma you experienced. Thank you for opening up with me today, I know it's not easy.” 

 

Susanna schedules a follow-up appointment for the next week, and breathes a sigh of relief that she made it through the hour without revealing the true depth of her involvement with Luisa.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have some experience with psychotherapy/grief counseling, but none with trauma. If you have any opinions/suggestions/criticisms, please send them my way! Life is for learning, and I certainly have a lot more to do.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Companion to chapter thirty-five. Keeping a slightly altered timeline (deal with it).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried to mainly stay with canon this chapter, but I feel like Susanna definitely would not have been allowed to return to work that quickly after discharging her weapon on duty, regardless of her injury. Let me know if you disagree with my character interpretations- I love a good civil discourse. 
> 
>  
> 
> As always, I'm on tumblr doing whatever people do on tumblr @ blueblue-baby

Dr. Schwann’s advice had apparently manifested in the universe- as Susanna walked out of the office, she felt her phone buzz, and saw Luisa’s name on the ID.

_(Face your fears, Barnett.)_

“Luisa?”

“Look, I get why you would want space right now, but here's the thing. You are hurt, and it's kind of my fault, and I want to take care of you." 

She breathes in, gathering strength.

" _Please_ , let me take care of you.”

(Later, Susanna will realize that liquid courage helped Luisa pick up the phone, but in the moment, she is only grateful to feel like someone gives a damn about her.)

Susanna realized she'd forgotten to answer, and exhales, “okay.”

“Come to my place at the Marbella-we can get room service and watch bad movies and you can even have the whole bed.”

(It really was an amazing bed. The one in Susanna's apartment was lumpy and creaky, and hadn't helped her crazy Valium dreams. At all.)

_

The circumstances have never been worse, but Susanna thinks she will never tire of seeing Luisa’s face on the other side of a door. She looks exhausted, and her eyes are ever so slightly red-rimmed, but the smile she greets Susanna with is genuine, and she knows she made the right decision coming here tonight.

Luisa immediately sits her on the couch and examines her injury again. Susanna knows the brushes against her collarbone and the tops of her breasts are _extremely_ intentional, but she also knows that for Luisa, inappropriate flirtation is the way she expresses love.

Or at least fondness.

“It's looking much better than it has a right to, you got lucky. It’ll scar, but that’s kind of a bonus, honestly,” she winks.

Luisa's eyes are kind, and her hands gentle as she replaces Susanna’s sling. Susanna is grateful for the physical impediment- the discomfort reminds her of all the things she shouldn't and cannot do.

(The pain is the punishment she deserves.)

She winces slightly as Luisa tightens the strap.

“So, about those bad movies?”

_

They end up sleeping together, literally, after one-and-a-half Bridget Jones films. There had been an an unspoken contract to not mention the shooting, or Rafael.

(Definitely not Rose.)

Luisa brushed Susanna's hair behind her ear, and caressed her thigh, and rubbed her feet, as if this was what they did every night. As if the past three days had never happened and they were simply enjoying a quiet evening in.

(And even with the violence and angst surrounding them, still ever-present was that undercurrent of undeniable attraction. Smoldering glances and burning touches insinuated themselves into the most inappropriate of moments.)

Luisa had tucked her in, and nestled into her left side until they both dozed off.

(For the first time since the shooting, Susanna didn't have nightmares.)

She woke feeling safe and warm, before her blood ran cold at the thought of Mutter. She knew it was probably too soon, but she'd done her due diligence and was ready to return to work. She might not be able to shoot a gun, or even type a report, but she could follow a lead. It was better than sitting at home and driving herself crazy reliving the shooting.

_

There's nothing like facing the imminent death of yourself and your loved ones to light a fire under your ass. It was in this spirit that Susanna decided to come clean about everything, to finish this case with a clear conscience. She knew Cordero had figured her out long ago but saying the words aloud made her feel like less of a snake.

She really needed to not hate herself right now.

She couldn't help but smile when she saw him hang up the phone with an “I love you, too.”

_So that was where he ran off to the other night. At least someone’s getting a happy ending._

They worked tirelessly all day, pausing only for Cubanos well past noon, until she got another call from Luisa that evening.

_

Susanna had hoped and prayed that Luisa wouldn't relapse in the midst of her grief. But, having grown up Southern Baptist, she knows that hoping and praying didn't do shit but hide reality.

Hoping and praying kept you from admitting how bad things were, how bad they would continue to be.

Hope and prayer were the great absolvers of guilt and responsibility.

“ _It's in the lord’s hands now”_  
( _ **never my own**_ ).

Even though this case is (should be) the most important thing in her life, she walks out of the precinct without a second thought when she hears Luisa's broken voice.

“I really messed up this time. You're the only one who doesn't hate me. I don't know why, honestly, you should really hate me! I think you might love me?”

(She definitely loves her.)

“Luisa? What's going on? Are you at the Marbella?”

“Yeah, Jane is taking care of me. She is _so_ nice! I ruined her life _too_ and she is taking care of _me_.”

Then she whispers conspiratorially,

“She is pretty too, but not as pretty as you. You have the nicest hair, it's like the sunshine. I have so much darkness in my life but you are sunshine.”

(It would be sweet really, if Susanna didn't feel like puking at the thought of Luisa undoing all of her hard earned sobriety.)

_

Jane _is_ pretty, and Susanna can see how Cordero’s almost lost his job for this selfless woman and her child. (Maybe someday they can bond over jeopardizing their careers for beautiful women plagued with rotten luck). She peers behind her to see Luisa collapsed on the couch, and she kicks herself for not having the presence of mind to at least _check in_ the night before.

“ _I'll take care of her._ ”

It’s a promise more to herself, than Jane, but Jane looks relieved as she vacates the room (presumably to go see Michael, who's surely finally left work by now).

Luisa looks so lovely and peaceful in her blacked-out state, and Susanna takes the uninterrupted moment to just admire her.

The curve of her lips, softly pouted in a gentle snore.

The graceful slope of her clavicle, leading to an elegant neck (Which happens to be currently bent at an extremely unnatural angle on the back of the couch. _That'll hurt in the morning_.).

Then, Luisa registers her presence and opens her honeyed eyes. They lock gazes for a moment, Susanna still drinking in every aspect of Luisa's existence, before Luisa says “ ** _Shit_** ,” and bolts for the bathroom.

(Susanna has held back hair and babysat intoxicated women before. Mainly in college, when she became infatuated with one too many sorority sisters. It's always been a chore, and a great way to quickly kill an inconvenient crush.)

But she doesn't feel an ounce of annoyance right now, even when Luisa makes her brush her teeth for her.

( _Love is not proud._ )

As they walk back to the couch, Luisa starts to cry again.

“I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have to take care of me. I should take care of _myself_. _Why can't I take care of myself?_ ”

“Luisa.” Susanna touches her face to pull her out of her self-flagellation.

“We will talk tomorrow, and we will start to fix this. But tonight, I am staying here, and you are going to rest.”

She wraps her good arm around Luisa's shoulders, gently rocking her as she hums her mother's favorite song.

“ _Love can_ _never be exactly like we want it to be…_ ”

_

Susanna had always suffered from homesickness as a child. When she stayed at her grandmother’s house in Flomaton, it seemed she couldn't go a night without waking up in tears. But Granny Barnett had sat her in her lap on the porch swing, and they watched the sun rise together before eating butter pecan ice cream for breakfast. She had patiently explained that each morning was a chance to start over, to be braver.

(Susanna worked her way up to a full night’s sleep by the end of the week, but she met her Grandmother on the front porch before dawn every summer thereafter.)

She listens now on this terrible morning, as Luisa explains everything. Her heart breaks as she thinks of how _alone_ she must have felt (how selfish Susanna had been in pursuing her feelings at Luisa's expense). Now, though, is her chance to be braver, to be patient and kind. She reaches awkwardly across her lap for Luisa's hand.

“ _When you get out, when you're better, I can take you out._ ”

(She'll certainly have time to plan one helluva date.)

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Susanna's lullaby is "Dedicated to the One I Love," by the Mamas and the Papas (or the Shirelles, pick your poison). I'm a music therapist and songwriter, and have processed every emotion I've ever had through music, so let me know if my use of song placement in the fic feels like too much. Thanks for hanging in there for another chapter! 
> 
> If the show doesn't portray Luisa's rehab experience, what do y'all want to see next for these two? Brainstorms always welcome <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Susanna road trips and Luisa checks-in. (Follows chapter 36 in-show)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took some liberties with this one, because I kind of had to, BECAUSE NO MENTION OF OUR BABIES ON THIS WEEK'S EP. a plausible explanation for why they disappeared from the face of the earth, if you will.

Luisa's talk with Rafael hadn't gone well.

At all.

He had cut her off, explaining that his problems were of much greater magnitude than hers, and _wasn't it a good thing that Rose was dead_?  
Susanna rubbed Luisa's shoulder as she fought back what felt like the millionth round of tears that day.

“Well,” she said, gathering herself, “I guess it's time to rehabilitate.”  
_

Luisa hands Susanna a name and address of her facility of-choice, and sits silently in the passenger seat as they travel out of the city towards Coral Gables.

Susanna is great with witnesses.

She had always known exactly what to say when Luisa was just a part of her investigation. But now, she knows that empty words will do more harm than good, and they are both too fragile for much more deep conversation. She turns on the radio to quell her own nerves.

Finger-picked guitar fills the space between them, and seems to jolt Luisa from her thoughts.

“I wouldn't have pegged you for a Leonard Cohen fan.”

Susanna scoffs.

“Because I'm Southern? We do listen to more than Lynyrd Skynyrd in Alabama, you know.”

Luisa chuckles, “no, it's not that. You just seem like you wouldn't listen to a man on purpose.”

(She is kind of right; this mix is the only album Susanna has featuring male singers- they're disproportionately represented on the radio anyway. It's not necessarily that she hates men, they just take up so much damn space that she needs a break every now and then.)

“Touché. My father used to sing me this song, when I was little.”

She loses herself in the recollection of his dusty baritone for a moment, before continuing,  
“I guess your case brought back memories. I'd forgotten this was even in here-we can shut it off if you want.”

Luisa reaches out to stop her hand from turning the dial.

“No, I like it. It suits you, “ she hums, settling in for the third verse.

“ _And you want to travel with her, and you want to travel blind_  
And you know that you can trust her  
For she's touched your perfect body with her mind”  
_

The rehab is fancy.  
(Most of the things in Luisa's life are.)  
Palm trees line the drive, and mica flecks in the sidewalk sparkle at them as they enter the facility. “Ms. Alver” is quickly attended to, and Susanna holds back awkwardly, unsure of the etiquette of admitting a potential girlfriend into inpatient treatment. Then, Luisa grabs her hand, like she did during the visit to her mother’s facility, and Susanna follows her touch. They finish the tour, and circle back to the front desk, where their guide informs them that Luisa can't have visitors for 10 days, but Sunday afternoons are open to friends and family. Luisa looks worn out and overwhelmed, but also more hopeful and serene than she has in weeks. The staff offers them a moment of privacy.

“You're gonna be great,” Susanna murmurs, entwining her fingers in Luisa's.

“I really, really hope so.”

Luisa's smile is sad, not quite reaching her eyes.

“I'm proud of you, and I'm proud to know you,” (Susanna feels her accent growing stronger, her twang thickening the way it always does when she gets emotional) “and I'll see you a week from Sunday.”

Luisa's eyes finally lighten, like she hadn't believed Susanna would follow through until this moment.

“I'd really like that.”   
_

They'd confiscated Luisa's phone and Internet access when she’d checked in. It felt strange not having messages or calls coming in from her; the technological equivalent of the eerie quiet after a heavy snowfall.

Susanna had shifted her focus completely to work, but with nothing to distract her and her mother constantly reminding her “ _don't worry about us, Susie_ ” she was starting to lose it. Cordero suggested she take a break after she shattered her favorite coffee mug on his desk during a particularly emphatic bout of cursing Mutter.

(Dr. Schwann managed to squeeze her in for a last-minute session, imminent nervous breakdown and all.)

“It seems like you've had a rough day,” she gently prods.

“Ya think?”

(Susanna hates herself for sneering, but disdain is preferable to weakness.)

“Catch me up to speed on what's happened since our last visit.”

Susanna explains how Luisa had reached out to her, and then relapsed, and how she felt like she was spinning her wheels on this case, and _no one seemed to care that things weren't moving fast enough_.

“The person who understood what you're going through is unavailable. You've lost your support network when you need it most.”

“I thought I would be helping her. _I'm not supposed to be a mess like this_.”

Dr. Schwann gives her that cryptic psychoanalyst look that says both “ _I see through your shit_ ” and “ _you're human, not broken._ ”

“Let's take a step into hypotheticals. If you and Luisa were in a relationship, would you want it to be one-sided? Would she want that?”

(She doesn't say romantic relationship, but the inference is there, and honestly, Susanna could care less right now about being reprimanded by the department when she can't even make it through paperwork without wanting to punch a wall.)

“That's a quick and easy recipe for resentment,” Susanna replies, feeling like the world’s biggest asshole.

“I'm going to make a suggestion, and I assure you you will have the support of Lieutenant Armstrong and the department if you follow it. Go see your family. Tap into your existing support network before exhausting your resources in Miami. Let yourself see with your own eyes that your mother and brother are safe.”

Susanna hates feeling like she's giving up, but she's also not slept for more than two hours at a stretch without checking in on her family. She nods, realizing that tears have sprung unbidden and her voice is inaccessible behind the lump in her throat.

“We’ll re-evaluate when you return. Take all the time you need- I mean it.”  
_

It's a thirteen-hour drive from Miami to Nashville. Susanna takes it all in one day, closing up shop at the precinct and calling her mother in the span of 30 minutes. Armstrong had looked relieved when she asked for a few days, and had promised that she would be allowed to return to the case when she got back.

She had forgotten that it was still winter, what with the consistency of Miami’s tropical warmth, but as she reaches the Georgia state line, the dusk air chills. The cold is invigorating, spurring her to drive on through the night. She passes through Atlanta at one in the morning, the 8 lanes of congestion blissfully clear as she floats through downtown. By the time she rounds Lookout  Mountain, it feels like Miami is half a world away, her thoughts of Luisa scattered behind her, tin cans from a couple of newlyweds.

The sunrise meets her as she exits I-24 into her family's East Nashville neighborhood. She sees her mother's Honda Civic, covered with football boosters bumper stickers and Titans magnets, and heaves a shaky sigh of relief as she parks behind her. She can scarcely ring the bell before the door rockets open and she is crushed into a hug.

“Oh, baby girl, I am so glad you are home,” her mother breathes into her hair.   
Susanna clings to her for dear life and trembles, as her mother rocks her back and forth. She doesn't know how long they stand there in the foyer- twenty minutes? It's interminable and not nearly enough.

Tyler emerges from his cocoon of Saturday morning sleep and wordlessly embraces her as well. He's in the monosyllabic phase of adolescence- she knows from the magnitude of his reaction that this has all hit him very hard. With Tyler, she puffs up back into protector mode.

“You were so brave. Thank you for taking care of mom. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.”

_

Susanna manages to rest for a few hours after her emotional arrival, and wakes to the smell of bacon frying. The kitchen table is plied with every comfort food imaginable, biscuits and gravy, scrambled eggs and home fries. Her mom has always cooked her feelings; the whole family gained twenty pounds during her divorce.

“Susie, I hope you're still eating well. I know they do things different _way down there.”_

(Her mother had acted like she was leaving for war when she had mentioned the Miami transfer all those months ago.)

“Believe it or not, mama, I am capable of cooking for myself,” she smiles.

“Well you look like a pile of skin and bones! Dig in, for goodness sake!”

The food is incredible, and a welcome respite for her senses. She's finally managed to get used to eating with her left hand, although her arm is still pretty tired from the drive. The three of them eat in silence, adjusting to the changed atmosphere in the home.

After the plates are cleared and the leftovers refrigerated, her mother shuffles them all into the living room. She's lit the fireplace and they carry their coffee mugs along for additional warmth.

“Now, I think you owe us a story.”  
_

Susanna gives them the full run-down ( _no more secrets_ ), from her initial transfer to investigate Cordero, to the _mutter_ case and how she had remembered blue silk. She tells them of how Luisa was so ridiculous, but earnest and sweet, and honestly, they would really like her. She explains about Rose, and the setup, and how sorry, always sorry, she will be for bringing them into this. Her mother examines her sling for what feels like the fiftieth time as she explains about taking Luisa to rehab and going a little crazy at work yesterday.

“Oh, _honey_ ,” her mother coos, “I am so glad you gave yourself a break. You've always tried to carry the world on your shoulders.”

(It’s true- even at five years old, Susanna had assumed the role of responsibility when her father left. She had always felt like an adult, even as a child, spending recess talking with her teachers instead of playing with the other kids. She had become a police officer to look out for others, but lately she had really let the ball drop on that front.)

Tyler gruffs, “it’s not your fault, Susanna, you had no way of knowing. And you helped save a lot more people than just us.”

(He's always been an old soul, too.)

They transition from processing the present to reminiscing about the past, pulling out photo albums and cherishing all the memories of their family, precious in spite of and because of the road that led them here.   
_

Susanna doesn't like churches. They remind her of sweaty palms and self-loathing, and she is confident and comfortable with herself now, but that doesn't mean she needs to revisit pine pews and prayers. But her mama’s faith has always existed, even after the betrayals of Tyler's father and the pain of their congregation’s homophobia. She puts on her spare pantsuit and prepares to be gawked at discretely throughout the service.

(Her mother had updated her after they'd found their Nashville church home, “ _we’re Presbyterian now! They love the gays!”_ )

Mama’s pastor is a woman, and she reads from the book of Ruth and maybe God and Leonard Cohen have been trying to send her a little bit of a message.

She keeps the sermon in mind all week, and departs Nashville Saturday morning with more hugs and tears, and a million pounds of weight lifted off of her (wounded) shoulders.

_She's got somewhere to be tomorrow._   
_

In the same way that Susanna’s mind left Luisa on the drive north, her thoughts return to her as the air warms and she heads back to Florida. She lets herself daydream of repeating this trip with Luisa in tow. Imagines her delight in the wood cutouts at Rock City, pictures her charming truckers at each rest stop. She smiles to think of Luisa's openness, how she wouldn't give a damn about holding her hand in South Georgia, how she might insist on detouring down a red dirt road, because it's been eight hours already in the car and she can only sit on her hands for so long.

She feels _happy_ when she arrives back in Miami under darkness, because although she is exhausted, and drained, and battered, she is hopeful. For herself, for Luisa, for all the things she never thought she would have as an awkward gangly girl in Alabama.

She sleeps lightly, like the night before Christmas, in anticipation of tomorrow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song at the beginning is "Suzanne," obv, "Whither Thou Goest" is alluded to, as well. I firmly believe that misandrist Susanna Barnett is canon, FIGHT ME.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rough timeline for episode 37. Who knows what Lu and Su have been up to!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay in updates/the brevity of this chapter. As y'all well know, I'm working with absolutely nothing from the show at the moment. Hopefully that will change with tomorrow's ep! Until then, filler/character development!

Susanna wakes gently to the sound of rain, soft grey light peeking through her window. She takes a moment to rub her shoulder and recalibrate to her surroundings after a week away from home. 

( _When, exactly, did Miami become home?)_

Midway through her second cup of coffee, the nerves kick in. Meeting Luisa at rehab feels like a blind date, like they might as well be strangers after all that's happened. She stares at her wardrobe for a quarter hour before opting to eschew her boxy blazer in favor of a more casual look. A faded ‘Bama sweatshirt and frayed jeans. As far away from Sunday Best as she can get.

(A small part of her hopes that if she looks as dowdy as possible, Luisa won't look at her like a kid in a candy store, and Susanna might be able to maintain some semblance of control over her feelings for the brunette.)

She steadies herself through washing dishes and locking up, but her mind races again on the drive to Coral Gables.

_What the hell am I doing?_

_What if she's changed her mind?_

_What if I've changed mine?_

But when she walks into the lobby, and Luisa is waiting for her, reading a book and attempting not to look like she's been there for an hour (even though Susanna is technically fifteen minutes early for visitation), her worries dissipate.

  
Luisa’s joy and surprise nearly breaks her. She wonders how many days as a child Luisa must have waited for her mother’s return, how long she could have held out hope.

(She thinks of how many evenings she kept watch on the front porch, looking for her father's pickup to come around the bend.)

“You look really good!” Luisa beams.

“Hardly,” Susanna scoffs, wishing she had opted for the power lesbian look instead of dorm casual.

Luisa wears a green v-neck t-shirt and black yoga pants, her face free of makeup, hair loose around her shoulders.

She looks like a goddess.

(Sometimes the line between attraction and jealousy gets blurred when you're a woman who dates women.)

“So,” she twists her hem in her free hand, “how have you been?”

And just like that, Luisa is back to her old self, rambling a mile a minute about her latest journey of self-discovery.

“...And then, I realized, I can't control Rafael any more than I could control Rose or my father. I have to accept that he may never forgive me, but only I can forgive myself.”

“Wow, it sounds like you've been making a lot of progress, I'm really proud of you.”

Luisa sighs in self-satisfaction.

“Anyway, that's me. What about you? Have you gone back to work?”

And for once, Susanna is the over-sharer, giving her all the details of her job, and her family, and how fucking fragile she's actually been these past ten days.

(She only tears up once, Luisa silently handing her a Kleenex from the ample boxes surrounding them. A lot of crying happens in this building.)

Luisa massages her shoulder as she regains her composure, inquiring about her physical therapy regimen and giving her breathing room from her display of vulnerability. She realizes that however self-involved Luisa can be, she was nothing but attentive while Susanna shared with her, never trying to fix it, or argue interpretation, or expecting Susanna to feel or think any differently than she does.

(Damn shrink was right.)

They end the afternoon with a game of checkers, and Susanna tells Luisa about her grandfather’s general store and the old-timers who spent their retirement jumping and kinging one another.

“I've never been to Alabama,” Luisa muses, “you'll have to take me sometime.”

“I'm holding you to that now,” Susanna teases. “You'll be begging me to leave once you see the bustling metropolis of Flomaton up close and personal.”

“Oh,” Luisa's eyes glint competitively, “you don't think I can handle it.”

“On the contrary,” Susanna eases back into their familiar rhythm of flirtation,

“I don't think they can handle _you_.”  
_

The remainder of Susanna’s Sunday is spent in silent contemplation.

(Does it count as prayer if you're only talking to yourself?)

She irons her shirts and cooks dinner and resolves to return to normalcy tomorrow.

(She types messages in her phone and deletes them.)

_(I miss you.)_

_(Sweet dreams.)_

_(You make me like Sunday's again._ )

_

Susanna walks as confidently as she can into Armstrong’s office on Monday morning.

“Barnett! You're looking well, I trust your time off was well spent?”

“Yes, sir. Actually, I was wondering if you might reassign me. Temporarily, at least, until the Mutter case is closed?”

(If he's surprised at her change of heart, he doesn't show it.)

“Well, Cordero seems to be gelling with the backups I brought into the case and he's worked out a rapport with Solano; it won't be glamorous, but I could use some help auditing case files. What do you say, at least until you get your shooting arm back in commission?”

She has never been more grateful for grunt work in her life.  
_

Combing through filing cabinets makes her privy to all the precinct’s gossip, and the department is buzzing with talk of Rafael’s mysterious half-brother. Susanna heaves a sigh of relief that she's not the one having to negotiate with Solano; if such a thing is possible, she hates him more that Michael does.

The only thing that would stop her from clocking him is Luisa's sure disapproval.

(And the fact that her right hook is currently in a sling.)

Perhaps, by creating distance from the case, she and Luisa can quietly embark on a relationship with no undue curiosity. She might even avoid professional censure in addition to Cordero’s smug teasing.

Sure, luck has never been on their side before, but there's a first time for everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been doing some short prompt ficlets on tumblr if you're into that kind of thing. @blueblue-baby.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael gets fired, and Susanna re-evaluates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm beginning to accept that Susanna and Luisa will probably not return before the end of the season, so I'm trying to set up some sort of resolution for this story if that doesn't happen on-screen. Thanks for bearing with me in these trying times :)

Susanna was starting to feel like an extra in the story of someone else’s life. She had gone from essentially living inside a crime thriller to alphabetizing the antiquated records of the Miami PD for 8 hours a day. Susanna’s Mother was a big believer in sticking with decisions, regardless of the complications the universe threw at you; her influence kept Susanna in Tuscaloosa for the last 2 years of her tenure, out of a sense of duty. (It also kept her in piano lessons until she was in Middle School, though all she remembers are the 12 major scales, and that’s not a very entertaining party trick.) She is not a runner, she is not a quitter, and she is  _certainly_ not lazy. (She'll be damned if this isn't the greatest feat of administrative work this department has ever seen.)

 

Now, though, every door is an exit. She spends hours daydreaming of where she could go next, who in the world might take her. Her father’s ghost looms above her reveries of running away. Had he taken the easy way out? Or had leaving them been the hardest thing he ever did, the only way, but an impossible one? Her shoulder throbs from repetitive motion and not enough pain killers. The ache pulls her away from her list of cities back to the task at hand. 

_Dallas._   


_New York._

_Atlanta._

_Seattle._

She could be anyone, anywhere; she's already done it once this year, after all. 

But now she's not so sure she wants to be anywhere if Luisa Alver isn't there. 

_

When she sees Michael’s face adorning the front page of the paper, her first reaction is relief. It isn’t noble, and she does feel bad for the guy (he is reckless, irresponsible, and overly confident in his abilities, but he isn’t crooked, and lord knows there are a lot of willfully corrupt police out there), but she can’t help but feel like she dodged a bullet. (She's already taken one this month, maybe she deserves a cosmic break.)  She’s also incredibly grateful she recused herself from this case before Derek came into the picture. Hell, Rafael is so focused on his shiny new sibling that no one would probably care about her involvement with Luisa considering how removed she now is from all things Solano. 

 

(Things change. Families break. Giants fall.)

_

 

News of Cordero’s dismissal spreads like wildfire around the department (cops gossip worse than high school girls and southern church ladies). Armstrong actually seems a little sad about it, but what the chief says goes, and he is gruff and curt with inquiries from the press and staff about the “ongoing investigation.” Susanna highly doubts that anything new could come to light from further inquiry, other than her own professional indiscretions. But those in power have been overlooking lesbianism for centuries- the question of “what in the world could two women do without a penis?” befuddling them so much that women fell in and out of love right under their noses, with no one the wiser. 

 

She could be completely fucked, but most likely, she will just be ignored. 

_

 

It’s probably risky to visit Luisa this week, but, well, she needs to talk to someone who isn’t connected to the department (and who isn’t her mother). And this newfound tradition of Sundays at rehab reminds her of the comforting ritual of worship- the refuge in knowing you have someplace to go on Sunday morning, regardless of what the week before might bring. 

 

“Do you think he thinks you leaked?”

 

(It hadn’t even occurred to her until this very moment, but now Susanna definitely feels like an asshole.) 

 

“Maybe? We talked things out before I left the Mutter case, but he certainly doesn’t have any reason to trust me. Then again, he hasn’t exactly made friends with any of the Solanos.” 

 

“Raf? Would not do this. He doesn’t like Michael but he wouldn’t throw Jane under the bus like that.” 

 

“I know, I know. But Derek is an unknown quantity. And I can’t imagine he’s been a good influence on your brother, no offense.” 

 

“None taken. I’m usually the bad influence- it’s kind of a relief.” 

 

Luisa smiles, but Susanna can see how hurt she is by Rafael’s silence in the three weeks she’s been in here. She quickly changes the subject.

 

“So, have you planned that date you promised me? They tell me I’m on track to leave in ten days.” 

 

“About that…”

 

Luisa’s face falls. 

 

“What? So you drive over here, dump your crap on me, and now you’re going to dump me?” 

 

_ (This is not the plan. Well, there isn’t really a plan, but this. is not it.) _

 

“Luisa, that is the last thing I want.  _ Honestly.  _ But it might not be the best idea to parade ourselves around downtown right now, while this case is still active.” 

 

( _She certainly sounds like she’s trying to break up with her.)_

 

“And if it stays open, because the Miami PD is  _ so good _ at successfully capturing drug lords, what then?” 

 

Susanna steels herself, gathering courage. 

 

“How tied are you to Miami?”

_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WILL THEY OR WON'T THEY U-HAUL????? your guess is as good as mine tbh
> 
> comments and conspiracy theories are always appreciated!   
> (did anyone else think Susanna might have been the leak? It doesn't seem consistent with what we know of her but JTV writers are all about surprises, so!)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Companion to Chapter 43. (Michael has terrible boundaries, Susanna is too much of a pushover in the face of injustice.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "It's been a while since we've seen her!" I KNOW, NARRATOR. I fucking knowwwwww. 
> 
> (anyways, how good was it to have our sweet, darling detective and her power suits back this week? who else is terrified for the finale?)

It feels good to have a plan. 

 

She and Luisa agree to take a break from Miami while everyone else in their lives sorts out their drama. 

 

“ _ Whoa, not even I am crazy enough to uhaul away from my family right after becoming sober,”  _ Luisa  responds when Susanna queries about her attachment to the city.

 

_ “ _ Oh, gosh, no! I am really fucking up everything about this conversation _ ,”  _

( _ Get it together, Barnett)  _

 

“But maybe we could get away for a week or two- go someplace quiet while we get used being normal people again? I’m actually getting my sling off tomorrow, and my grandparents have this old cabin…” 

 

“Well, I guess I could help you get that arm back in shape. You really should be in the care of someone with medical training.” 

 

Luisa’s eyes sparkles, and Susanna knows that she is off the hook. Luisa is quick to anger, but faster to forgiveness. It is her biggest downfall, and her greatest strength. 

 

Once more, Sunday is over before it’s begun, and Susanna leaves Luisa with a lighter heart than she found her.

 

But when she steps into the parking lot and hears her voicemail from Cordero, it all goes to shit. 

_

 

In between Cordero’s firing and her own transfer to “less intense” duties, the Miami PD had quietly dropped the investigation into Elena Di Nola and her various criminal family members. 

 

And honestly, Susanna was relieved.

 

And ashamed at being relieved, given her commitment to justice and transparency in police work prior to the whole “family threatened, arm shot, ex of current (?) girlfriend murdered” thing. 

 

But the part of her that remember’s sweet, gentle Tyler protecting her mother, that remembers how hard Luisa has worked to rebuild her broken life, that remembers taking the oath to serve and protect- that part quickly overrides her fear and trauma in order to help Michael. As she drives to meet with him, she prays that this professional overstep won’t jeopardize the case and rule any warrant she does manage to procure null and void. 

 

_ Rules exist for a reason.  _

But try telling that to a white boy with a vigilante streak. 

 

_

 

Susanna is tired. 

 

So. Fucking. Tired. 

 

In two days she has gone from being hopeful about the future, to feeling healed, physically and mentally, to jeopardizing everything she holds dear. 

 

She is self-aware to know how destructive pursuing this case is, but too stubborn to stop herself.

 

Her eyes are framed by wrinkles and bags, and her voice has gone from a bright lilt to a low, defeated monotone. Her therapists’ calls are unanswered. The flowers she bought to send to Luisa in her last week of treatment sit on her kitchen table, wilting in the artificial light. 

 

On paper, she shouldn’t trust Michael. After all, he got his last partner killed, compromised at least three investigations, and has used nepotism six ways til Sunday to stay on his feet throughout it all. 

 

(Susanna ended up with scar tissue and chronic insomnia. She teeters precariously in her high heels.) 

 

But she does trust him, and she knows, after a decade of police work that her hunch is sometimes the only thing that can guide her in this crooked, cruel world. 

 

She knows, too, that stopping Mutter and shutting down her operation will save many more lives than her own, should it come to that. She knows that every time she affixes her badge to her belt, she puts a target on her head. 

 

(She knows that some days, that’s  _ why _ she clips it on.)

  
  


Michael has enough energy for the both of them, it seems, and she can feel it crackling through the phone as he cites “exigent circumstances” and beckons her to meet him at the Fairwick. 

 

She wonders if anyone would tell Luisa if anything happened to her. 

 

(She wonders if Luisa would even want to know.) 

_

 

This is stupid. One armed detective, a disgraced civilian, and no backup. 

 

_ Goddammit, goddamit, goddamit.  _

 

Susanna’s mind echoes her footsteps with her blasphemous prayer. 

 

She had been prepared to find thugs,  booby traps,  piles of money, or absolutely nothing, but Elena Di Nola, bound and gagged, is a surprise. 

 

She hopes she’s suffered. 

 

(Perhaps Susanna’s anger should be towards her crimes, but the law will punish her when that time comes. She wants retribution for the son she abandoned, and the grieving step-daughter whose father was too engrossed in his new romance to help the little girl who spent the rest of her life searching for the ghost of her mother. She hates that Elena ever had the privilege of knowing Luisa, much less breaking her heart two times over. )

 

She shakes herself out of the emotional stupor to call it in, and she and Cordero coordinate their story while they wait for the uniforms to arrive. 

 

As crime scene techs swoop in, Armstrong in all his bombastic glory hones in on her.

 

“What in the  _ hell  _ is going on here, Barnett?” 

  
So much for having a plan. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't want to get ahead of myself, canon-wise, so this one's pretty short. Was it just me, or did Susanna look absolutely broken this week? GIVE MY LESBIANS HAPPINESS, TV!

**Author's Note:**

> There is no Waffle House in Miami! IKNORITE?! I'll try to work in more Luisa PoV as this puppy moves along. Thanks for reading! #moreSouthernQueersonTV2k16


End file.
